


Vanilla Beans

by MadameRed



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Chair Sex, M/M, Smut, dorky boyfriends doing the frickle freckle, jean tops, lap dance, ooh~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 03:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameRed/pseuds/MadameRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't think we're that vanilla," he mused aloud. He queued up a song and then wandered back to the computer. </p><p>"You said yourself you two rarely do anything but missionary," Connie pointed out. Jean grumbled something about keeping Big Macs out of the bedroom, but he was rather cut off by Marco pulling his chair away from the computer and turning him so that he faced the wall. The freckled man leaned over the desk and smirked into the webcam.</p><p>"That's because Jean makes the best faces when he comes all over himself."</p><p>Or, the one where Marco gives Jean a sexy lap dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla Beans

”If that nutsack had kept his mouth shut, we could be out at the movies right now,” Jean complained.

"Eren isn’t a nutsack," Marco hummed, logging into Jean’s Skype account. "Also, really?" He jerked his thumb at the laptop screen. Jean grinned at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked sweetly, feigning ignorance.

“ _HottieWithABodty_  is the worst pun on my name that I’ve ever heard,” Marco deadpanned.

"It was Reiner’s idea," Jean chuckled. He leaned over the chair, draping his arms around Marco’s shoulders and squinting at the screen. "That’s him." Marco clicked on  _HumanitysBestPaperTowel_  and made a video call. A few seconds later, Reiner’s someone sunburnt face popped up on the screen.

"Hey, turtle, our competition is here!" Reiner winked at the screen as Bertholdt’s head rose over the blond’s shoulder. He smiled at Jean and Marco.

"Hi, guys," he greeted. Jean winked and stuck out his tongue and Marco grinned and waved.

"You fools ready to party like it’s nineteen-ninety-nine?" Reiner asked. He held up (the first of many, Marco was sure) a six pack of beer and brandished it in front of his webcam.

"There was no Skype in ninety-nine," Bertholdt said quietly.

"Boo, turtle!" Reiner all but whined. "Pop culture references are lost on you."

"Armin told us to put together a playlist," Marco offered before Bertholdt started sweating. Reiner narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I hope you didn’t let Jean pick all the music. I don’t want to listen to the Sex Pistols all night." Jean flipped off the screen.

"Oi, fuck you. Sid Vicious was a god," he groused. Marco patted Jean’s hand absently and grinned at Reiner.

"Which is why I put the music together."

A ringing noise came from the laptop speakers; a video call request from _NotYourHouse_  was answered by Reiner. Another window appeared, and Eren, Armin, Mikasa, and Annie blinked onto the screen. Marco grabbed the remote control for the iPod compatible stereo and turned the music on. Jean pulled the strawberry infused tequila that he’d made the week before out of the mini-fridge in his bedroom. Christa and Ymir were the next to sign in ( _BeautyAndTheBeast_ ). Sasha and Connie logged on ten minutes after everyone else ( _Springtato_ ) because Sasha had dragged him out to Taco Bell for cinnamon twists. But their mandatory, weekly Skype Orgy (so said Reiner) was soon in full swing.

An hour later, it was much like one of Ymir’s house parties during the school year. Everyone was loud and talking over one another. Sasha tried getting everyone to watch a movie, but it was all in vain. Annie pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up and dragged Mikasa down to the floor, the two of them causing Eren to cringe whenever his sister made a noise that wasn’t quiet enough to save his poor ears. They were all nearly positive that Ymir had her hands down Christa’s pants, and Jean kept groping Marco and making him squawk.

The current debate was who was the least vanilla.

"It’s between Horse-Freckles and the Pretty Boys," Reiner announced. He’d cleared himself and Bertholdt from their bizarre little contest by showing them a leather harness and an anal plug with a long cat tail attached, much to Bertholdt’s embarrassment. Eren refused to let Mikasa participate and nearly fell out of his chair when Annie showed them a picture of Mikasa posing with a very large, very purple dildo at a toy store.

"We’re not vanilla!" Jean protested indignantly. Connie crossed his arms.

"What’s the craziest place you’ve banged?"

"The astronomy room, ten minutes before class started. The professor was sleeping when we walked in," Jean fired off. He slammed back another shot of strawberry tequila and winked at Marco. Sasha rubbed her chin and Reiner nodded sagely.

"Eren, Armin, your counter?" he prompted.

"If I tell you the craziest place we’ve done it, Mikasa will personally rip my balls off," Eren muttered, leaning in close to the mic. "So here’s this." He stood and stepped back (gingerly stepping over Annie’s leg and keeping his eyes as  _up_  as possible). He turned and lifted his shirt, exposing his back to the camera. It was covered with scabbed over marks and crisscrossing red lines. Up along his neck and shoulders there were deep purple bite marks. Armin, too drunk to be as embarrassed as he normally would have been, simply flushed and took another drink from his cup.

Connie and Reiner all but had their faces pressed to their webcams, mouths hanging open.

"You two are vanilla beans," Sasha declared, talking to Jean and Marco. 

"Just because Eren likes being torn to pieces?" Jean growled. "I like Marco’s perfect, caramel back looking like a back, not a slice of meat on a butcher’s block."

"Vanilla," Sasha sang. 

"I’m gonna kill you," Jean whispered without venom. Marco stood up and lazily staggered over to the speakers, leaning in to poke at the screen of the iPod. 

"I don’t think we’re  _that_  vanilla,” he mused aloud. He queued up a song and then wandered back to the computer. 

"You said yourself you two rarely do anything but missionary," Connie pointed out. Jean grumbled something about keeping Big Macs out of the bedroom, but he was rather cut off by Marco pulling his chair away from the computer and turning him so that he faced the wall. The freckled man leaned over the desk and smirked into the webcam.

"That’s because Jean makes the best faces when he comes all over himself." 

He gave the remote to the stereo a little shake between his thumb and forefinger and then pressed a button. He turned away from the wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions of their friends and tossed the remote onto the bed once the song began playing. It was Rihanna’s  _Rude Boy_ , and Jean’s jaw dropped to the floor as Marco did, squatting before him and running his hands along the inside of his thighs. 

He placed his hands on Jean’s knees (and Jean silently thanked whatever deity was listening that he was seated, because he would have fallen over otherwise) and worked them up his thighs, scratching lightly through the fabric of his lounge pants. His hands ghosted around to Jean’s lower back and he allowed his fingertips to dip below the waistband of his pants. Marco’s dark eyes locked with Jean’s as his breath ghosted across one thigh. 

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Reiner called across the quickly forgotten Skype call. Jean cast a triumphant, cocky grin at the screen. Sasha had shoved Connie out of the way and was glassy-eyed, happily munching away on some crisps. Eren and Armin’s faces had migrated closer to the screen, their eyes still wide. Reiner was laughing heartily and wolf-whistling, and Bertl had his head buried in the blond’s shoulder. Christa and Ymir had long since disappeared from their webcam’s line of sight.

Marco’s hands worked back to Jean’s upper thighs and he lifted his body up, pressing his chest into Jean’s crotch and rolling his body, raising himself to eye level and then above. He took a step back and ran his hands over his clothed chest. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of his sweats and he dragged them down just enough to give Jean a brief, teasing glance at dark brown curls. Jean dragged a hand down his face and bit at one of his knuckles when Marco turned and ran his hands down his sides. He planted them on Jean’s thighs and lowered himself, swiveling and gyrating his hips right into Jean’s crotch. He lifted and lowered himself, grinding against his boyfriend’s rapidly swelling erection. Planting his feet out further, he gripped the arms of the chair and pushed himself up, pressing his back against Jean’s chest. Marco’s head was directly next to his ear, and he drew the soft lobe into his mouth and nipped at it. 

Jean’s hands wandered to Marco’s sides as the black haired man slowly slid down Jean’s torso. He paused briefly to grind against Jean’s crotch and then continued his descent. His hands remained by Jean’s neck, and Jean ran his shaking hands up his arms. Marco withdrew his arms and trailed them over his chest again, then rolled his head against Jean’s crotch, locking eyes with him for just a second or two and then broke contact, twisting to his feet with a grace and sensuality that even Jean didn’t know he possessed.

Marco’s hands roamed over his body; he caught them on his lips, dragged them down his throat. They ghosted over his gyrating hips, lifted his shirt slightly, mussed his dark hair. He stepped closer to Jean once more and settled his hands on the arms of the chair and used his upper body strength to roll his torso back up Jean’s body. He brought his legs up and straddled Jean’s lap, swiveling his hips wickedly. Jean’s head fell forward onto Marco’s shoulder and he gripped the back of his shirt with his left hand.

As the song drew to a close, Jean’s composure returned (though he had to temporarily avoid looking at the incredibly erotic expression on Marco’s face) and he turned to look at his friends. A sly, smug smile uncurled over his lips and he twiddled his fingers in a mock-wave. As he reached to close the laptop, Reiner shouted, “ _Yeah, buddy! Get some, you caramel swirl bastard!”_  He snapped the laptop shut and before the sound disconnected, he heard Sasha whine, “No fair.”

Marco dragged Jean’s attention back to him by gripping his chin and guiding their mouths together. Marco was still grinding their erections together, and he moaned as Jean’s hands fell to his waist, long fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. Marco wasted no time in removing Jean’s thin shirt and running his hands over taught muscles. Jean slid his hands up under Marco’s shirt and removed it, immediately latching on to the other man’s collar bone with his mouth.

"You gonna tell me where you learned that?" he murmured. He felt and heard Marco chuckle, felt him lean toward the desk and move back. 

"YouTube," he muttered. The subtle pop of a cap was lost in the noises they were making, but it was noticed when Marco pulled back and reached a hand around to disappear into his sweats. He gasped as one finger slipped inside and he compulsively rocked back onto it. He gripped Jean’s shoulder with his free hand as Jean rolled his hips. He pushed a second finger in, scissoring and wriggling them around.

"You watch stripper videos on YouTube?" 

"Are you complaining?" Marco’s voice was tight and little more than a mumble; he had his lower lip captured between his teeth in an effort to not cry out.

"Oh, definitely no-"

"Then  _fuck me_ ,” Marco moaned. He slid from Jean’s lap and quickly divested himself of his sweats. With a wolfish grin, Jean lifted his hips and wriggled his own lounge pants down, freeing his swollen cock. He kicked them off and reached for Marco, wrapping one hand around his cock and guiding him back to his lap. Marco went happily, climbing back into Jean’s lap and wasting no time in lining his boyfriend up with his entrance. Jean’s head tipped forward against Marco’s shoulder and he hissed as Marco sunk down onto him. Jean’s hands found purchase on Marco’s muscular hips and gripped them tightly in an attempt to prevent them from shaking any more.

Marco rolled his hips slowly until Jean was fully ensconced within him. He wiggled his hips, allowing Jean to stretch him while simultaneously tormenting his poor boyfriend. Jean keened low in his throat, leaning forward to drop wet, open-mouthed kisses along Marco’s neck.

"Giddy up," Jean murmured against the skin of his neck. Marco made a noise that was part husky chuckle, part sultry groan, and entirely arousing. He lifted his hips, nearly completely exposing Jean’s cock, and then dropped back down. His hands moved to grip at Jean’s short hair, forcing his head back so that Marco could watch him while he rode him cross-eyed. He pushed his hips down hard with each movement, rendering Jean’s attempts at pushing up into him futile. He set a blistering pace, crouching over Jean and peppering his lips and face with sloppy kisses when he wasn’t gasping for breath. 

One of Jean’s hands left Marco’s hips and grabbed at his bobbing cock. He gripped it tightly, knowing just the right amount of pressure to apply that would drive Marco wild. He allowed Marco’s frantic pace to fuck his hand. In return, the hand that was not fisted in Jean’s hair reached around to gently fondle his balls. Jean squirmed down a little in the chair, thrusting up into his boyfriend. Marco nipped at Jean’s lip, sucking hair through his teeth.

"Ah, there!" he gasped. He ground down hard on Jean’s cock, desperately needing to see stars. Jean rolled his hips, relishing in the way Marco moaned and kissed him harder. He squeezed Jean’s balls, a little less gentle this time, and Jean’s hips jerked and he clenched the fist that Marco was fucking into tighter. They continued this sweet torture of squeezing and thrusting and grinding. Marco had given up on kissing Jean and opted to simply press their cheeks together as he rode Jean furiously. 

Jean gasped as one of Marco’s still slick fingers slipped into his own entrance. He fingered him quickly while palming his balls, and clenched around Jean as hard as he could. Jean had never had an orgasm sneak up on him, but there was a first for everything he guessed, in retrospect. With a hiss of “ _Oh, fuck!_ ”, he spilled himself into Marco, twitching as his sensitive cock continued to be ridden mercilessly. His grip around Marco’s cock tightened reflexively, and he brushed his thumb roughly over the tip. Jean gave his wrist a twist and one, two strokes later, Marco groaned his release across Jean’s forearm and chest and he ground down one last time onto Jean. 

Jean kissed Marco’s ear, trailed his hands up his trembling body. He gently guided Marco’s mouth to his and kissed him. When they parted, Marco grinned at him, managing to look both sultry and thoroughly fucked all at once. 

"You know we just contributed to Reiner’s spank bank," he said. 

"Probably. But he’s not allowed to order us vanilla frappuccinos anymore, either."

**Author's Note:**

> EEEHEHEHE because [this thing](http://freckledbodtsoldier.tumblr.com/post/67292364510/guys-i-was-messing-with-the-pitch-shifting-again) had me desperate to write Marco being a naughty little shit. 
> 
> TOOK FOREVER because do you even understand the lack of quality lap dance videos online? It's all crappy drunk teenagers just grinding on each other. But I took some moves from [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dq974WY5dGo) and failed miserably to write them out. 
> 
> My contribution to Jeanmarco porn~  
> Peace, love, and chai <3


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